


New Territories

by LostFairyMantic



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, E-rated for now just to stay safe, Fluff and Angst, Gotta build up to that climax you know?, I'm such a basic hoe, Inspired by my friend Christian, M/M, Omega Ignis, Rest easy for now, by dubious content, my first fan fiction and its omegaverse, non-con, the first few chapters won't be that bad, there won't be any real penetration involved-only molestation, these boys are precious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-29 20:18:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11448321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostFairyMantic/pseuds/LostFairyMantic
Summary: Ignis is grateful he resides within the Kingdom of Lucis. It's the safest place in Eos for an omega and he's never bored within the Citadel. There's always something to do or something to learn. His secondary sex is welcomed with open arms.Not everyone is as welcoming, though.





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first fan fiction in a very long time and I'm super excited to finally post this after days of work! I hope you enjoy reading this!

Ignis has had a penchant in child rearing since he was a tyke, 4 years of age and already demonstrating qualities of a well-behaved caretaker. 

He doted over his little cousins and nieces like a mother despite his age and taught them to read and walk amongst other things. He kissed their bloody kneecaps when they tripped and dusted dirt away from their shorts. His hair was always perfectly groomed and fashioned, glasses balanced on his little button nose. When they inevitably slid, his chubby fingers pushed them up with the elegance of a scholar. His eyes shone with fiery knowledge.

The adults often glanced at each other knowingly as they watched Ignis pick up after the children with naught a concern for approval or praise. Ignis just cared for others because he wanted to; it seemed a mannerism as intrinsic to him as his polite yet resilient character. 

“An Omega”. Distant aunts and uncles gossiped frequently. It was odd for such characteristics to already manifest as they tended to arise during puberty when a child’s secondary sex was unveiled. This spoke volumes of Ignis’s maturity. Close adults often congratulated his parents for birthing such a marvelous child. Some paused on the word “omega”, lips twisting into a snide as they pronounced the syllables. 

Glacies and Specula Scientia weren’t displeased at the revelation that their son would likely present as an omega. It would damper his chances at some occupations but the couple thought this suited Ignis just fine. 

The Kingdom of Lucis, while adverse to immigrants and foreigners, were far above other empires in terms of omegan civil rights. They were the first to abolish the old traditions of omegan breeding stocks. Their public education courses contained mandatory lessons on heats and ruts with explicit distinctions between consent and drug-induced lust. Omegas were taught how to act when they entered their first heat, how to not be ashamed of their needs and, above all, how to stay safe. Alphas were lectured on the potential dangers of entering ruts, how to avoid them ,and what to do when symptoms of ruts manifested in the tiny tingles near their backs. 

There were still several high-ending conservatives that saw omegas as weaker beings but compared to other empires, where omegan whore rings remained legal under watchful eyes, the Lucian empire remained a safe haven for omegas all over Eos. 

The couple would’ve preferred Ignis to be an alpha, of course. Omegan harassment and rape were still core issues within society and alphas occupied the highest positions in the Citadel. 

Alas, the couple were betas and their biology dictated their child would be either an omega or a beta. Nevertheless, they loved their son as he was. He bore the Scientia line’s signature green eyes and love for knowledge. Something as trivial as a secondary sex hardly put a dent into their love for Ignis.

And to their delight, Ignis took up his academics as easily as his nurturing. He devoured novels and encyclopedias at a neck-breaking pace. Often, his mother would find find him sprawled across their woven rug, fast asleep with his fingers curvled around the spine of a thick book entitled The History of the Past Lucian Kings with his glasses laying slanted across his round cheeks. They knew Ignis was destined for greatness, one they themselves could not provide in the quaint little city they lived in. Ignis already felt left out in his grade level and knew too much to bond with the others on an intimate, childlike manner. 

Ignis had wanted to visit the Citadel since he first knew of its existance, of its great library and stellar education. There his uncle worked as an advisor. Because they were simply too busy to go, the couple often implored him to send back Lucian books for their beloved son to read. They spent their nights listening to Ignis rattle on and on about the Citadel and how much he admired it and the king. What a beauty the Citadel was! What amazing architecture! How glorious the education and so focus driven were the people of the Citadel!

Day by day, Ignis came home from school more disgruntled than the last. He’d reread his uncle’s books so much that the pages crinkled even under his careful touches. He kept up his studies, maintaining his status on the top of his class and continued caring for the neighborhood children. Yet, he seemed so bored and distraught that his parents could hardly take it.

So, when Ignis’s uncle announced that he would come visit in a week, Glaciers and Specula quickly devised a plan. It was a little spontaneous, a little disheartening. Ignis was their pride and joy, a genius even by Scientia standards. And for that, they knew he deserved so much more.  
~ ~ ~

“He’s only 5 but he’s well acquainted with past lores and history.” Glacies beamed as she motioned toward Ignis. They were all seated in the living room of the Scientia household and nursing coffee. Ignis quietly sipped his orange juice, listening to his mother formally introduce him to his uncle. His father sat by his mother’s side, occasionally chipping in with his own two cents. 

Ignis peered up at his uncle. Despite being the same height as his parents, he seemed to tower over them. Maybe it was the rich black cloth of his uniform that gave him such an air of prestige. What caught his attention the most, however, was the large Citadel insignia on his attire. Intricate designs danced along the edges of the patch. Within him, Ignis felt a certain kind of connection that he could not discern. He wanted to speak out and ask his uncle questions about the Citadel. Was the King really as strong as the books proclaimed? What about those strange warping abilities characteristic of the mighty Kingsglaive army? Did he know how the Crystal functioned? Questions buzzed like flies around his mind. Ignis’s mouth quivered as they threatened to burst out. 

His mother’s firm grip kept him silent. An indication that this was a talk among adults.

Glaciers continued on. “He’s young but he has your old family smarts. It’s been a little tough for him...being so clever. He’s had trouble adapting. But, he will certainly bring pride to the Scientia name in the Citadel.” His mother’s fingers danced over his own.

His father hummed in agreement. 

Ignis peered at his uncle again. Sour pain crept up the length of his neck but he maintained his gaze, matching his uncle’s jade stare with his own. A sudden flash of interest swept across his uncle's face. He smiled, leaning back into the cushions. 

“You say he’s smart then? Would you happen to have a record of his achievements?” His head cocked, gloved fingers stroking his chin.

And then, seemingly to himself, “And supposedly an omega at that.”

Glacia patted the thick vanilla folder on her lap, letting go of Ignis for one second to stand and stride over to his uncle’s side. Ignis recognized the contents of the folder as his uncle began to flip through it, fingers nimble and quick like he was merely sorting paperwork. This folder contained all of his private information and academic achievements, from the time he was two to now. The most recent record dated a mere week past. His parents had urged him to take the national Lucian IQ test and he did. He wasn’t sure how well he scored but his parents had been pleased so he concluded he didn’t do too bad. 

His mother explained certain certificates that his uncle held up to her in question. This continued for a couple of terse minutes. 

Ignis observed his uncle’s expression shift from contemplative to surprised to delighted. The little butterflies fluttering around his stomach settled. He sneaked a glance at his father, who nodded in a small, pleasant way. Everything seemed to be working well so far. His uncle was looking more pleased by the moment and Ignis felt the butterflies revive anew in his stomach, this time in excitement. His face broke out in a smile at the prospect of living at the Citadel. He had so much to learn and so much to discover. And the national library was in the heart of the Citadel as well, full of original classics and prose. Living at the Citadel would be a dream come true.

“...And that’s his most present score on the Lucis intelligence exam...” 

His uncle suddenly laughed, starling Glacia out of her explanation. He laid a hand upon her shoulder in apology and turned to Specula, eyes twinkling in delight. 

“Why, this boy’s a right-down genius!” he bellowed. The boom of his voice, uncharacteristic of anything he’s heard from from his parents, started Ignis out of his thoughts. 

He turned to Ignis, uniform slapping the air with the force of his movement. Ignis remained still and tried to quiet his thumping heart. This was his big moment. This was his chance to prove himself. His uncle clearly had questions to ask and Ignis would NOT disappoint. 

“Say, would you be interested in becoming the Prince’s personal retainer?” 

The Prince...Prince Noctis the future 114th king of Lucis.

Ignis blinked and conjured up a hazy image of Prince Noctis that he had seen on the television a few weeks ago. He was three years old and had the face of an angel, all pale chubby cheeks and fluffed up hair with the brightest of blue eyes. To be the prince’s advisor would be a momentous task, if all the books he read on the Lucian order were true. For such an option to be offered to him...

“Well I..I would be honored,” Ignis stammered. Shellshocked, he barely remembered to add in a thank you at the end of his statement. A warm feeling swelled in his chest. Even his shock couldn't contain his glee and Ignis erupted into a smile. He heard his parents’ frantic whispers in the background. 

“The Prince is now 3 years of age and King Regis worries for him” his uncle explained, “he’s seeking a personal advisor for the prince from the ages of four to eight to train in the Citadel. If Ignis is selected, he’ll be entered in the most rigorous of courses and learn all that he wants.”

He glanced at Ignis and smiled. Ignis beamed back, so ecstatic that he could barely keep on his feet. His face ached with the force of the smile that overtook his face. Ignis couldn't remember smiling this hard in ages. 

“It also helps that he’s an omega. An advisor’s job is to care and nurture his or her retainer. It’s a little old fashioned, but something desired within the order. Of course, if he doesn’t get selected I think he’ll still gain a reputable job in the Citadel. Your Ignis is quite intelligent” 

With that, his uncle folded the vanilla folder and held it vertically on his lap. His parents immediately jumped up and began to thank his uncle. Ignis bowed his thanks. He felt giddy with joy, like the time his dad bought him a new set of novels directly printed and produced from outside of Lucian control.

Ignis’s bags were packed that day. It was a bit distressing seeing his room get dismantled. His neat stacks of books were taken down and packed away. The little burrow he made on his bed was straightened, the soft fleece and pillows stored away into another box. HIs parents kept the majority of his drawings as precious momentos, saying that it contained memories that could not be replaced. Now, they proudly hung on the doors of their refrigerators. 

As he stood on the doorways of his home, his parents nuzzled their cheeks against Ignis, scenting him. Ignis couldn't help the giggles that bubbled from his chest as their noses poked at his skin, skewing his glasses. He nosed them back in return and circled his arms around their necks. Just as he was about to let go, a tiny ache made itself present in his heart. The knowledge that he would be so far from home was suddenly frightening, not exhilarating. Ignis didn’t know his uncle very well. He’d never been to the Citadel in his entire life. The joy had slightly worn off and fear took its hold. Ignis’s eyes watered. His grip tightened around his parents’ forms as he took in their scent one last time. Then, he slowly let go. 

~ ~ ~  
The test Ignis took was simple enough in context. It was difficult and on a completely different level than the tests he was used to taking. He was a little disappointed about how straightforward the questions were, however. The majority of them were memory based. Only a few scattered questions tested Ignis’s understanding and ability to deconstruct and solve issues.

Within a few weeks of taking the test, his results came in. His uncle clapped him in the shoulder in congratulations and Ignis could not keep the smile from enveloping his entire face as he gazed at the golden certificate in his arms, announcing him the new personal advisor of Prince Noctis. 

After that, the events flew by in a blur. He informed his parents of the news over the phone, eyes misty as their soft, familiar voices serenaded his ears. Before he knew it, he was nervously adjusting the collar of his white dress shirt in front of the door leading to the Lucian throne.

Before, when they were rushing through the hallway, Ignis had been too distracted to take in their surroundings. Now that they had stopped, one guard leaving their side to knock on the large doors in front of him, did Ignis finally realize the magnitude of his situation. He was going to meet the beloved and revered king of Lucis, a man powerful enough to control an entire wall kilometers in length. The silken rug beneath his shoes was embroidered with gold, a foreign luxury. The paintings hiked upon the walls seemed to leer at him in their royal attire. Even the hallways lighted alarm within Ignis. They were so long and maze-like, like a serpent's path. If he wandered off, he would surely be lost for eternity

His uncle laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder before the guards by their side pushed open the door with a heave and escorted them in. 

The throne room was nothing like Ignis had ever seen before. The pictures in his books really did no justice in capturing the allure of the place. An ethereal vibe surrounded and highlighted every object in the room. Flowers bloomed in a permanent state of beauty around the handrails of the golden stairs. Upon his throne at the center of the stage, King Regis’s divine presence shone like a lone sun, his advisors and guards adopting the role of stars, near invisible under the sun’s mighty blaze.

Never before had the word “regal” been so fitting. 

“King Regis, the advisor Acerbus Scientia and his nephew Ignis Scientia”. Ignis followed his uncle’s example and bowed, eyes pointing straight down. His heart pounded erratically and his nerves shot up again at the prospect of meeting the king.

“Stand and be at ease,”the King’s voice boomed over the empty room. As it washed over him, Ignis could not help the shiver that shot down his back. It was a voice befitting of a ruler, dominating and unwavering yet tender with love for his country. He was suddenly reminded of the first time he met his uncle, of how mystified he was by his royal attire and figure. That experience paled in comparison to meeting King Regis. 

Ignis stood, hands straight at his side as King Regis approached, his sworn shield and sword by his side. 

Ignis had never felt so small than in that moment, watching their graceful approach. Clarus’ broad shoulders were so thick they blocked his line of sight of the throne. He was the perfect picture of military discipline with his set features and stony expression. His medals glinted as he moved. 

King Regis himself seemed to glide toward him. Ignis almost stepped back until he spotted a small black figure trailing after Regis like a little duckling.

It was the famous Prince Noctis. 

Prince Noctis looked like an absolute angel. He was all smiles and vibrant energy and childish charm. The instant Ignis saw him, his heart clenched familiarity. His fingers itched with the temptation to sweep back the prince’s unruly locks of literal fluff. There was a smudge on the prince’s cheeks that was just asking to be swiped away. When Prince Noctis fell on his way to them, Ignis instantly overlooked all his nervousness and dashed over to his side to help him off the floor.

Noctis gurgled as Ignis lifted him up before gently bopping Ignis on the nose with his chubby finger. 

Nearby, Regis shared a quick appreciative nod with his shield.

He cleared his throat and caught Ignis’s attention.

“ Now that you’ve met Noctis, let me introduce you to his future shield, Gladiolus Amicitia of the Amicitia family. You’ll be working together in the future as fellow Crownguards and brothers.” 

Noctis escaped Ignis's hands and dashed back to his father’s side, beaming as he clutched his father’s legs. His black hair merged with the murkiness of his father’s cloak. 

Turning, Ignis finally spotted a tall child standing next to Clarus, hair slicked back and posture straight and disciplined. When his eyes locked with Ignis’s, he nodded in greeting and shifted a little to adjust the wooden sword hanging from his side. Then, his eyes shifted to the side in disinterest.

Ignis didn’t expect to meet another child his age. Out of habit and courtesy, he smiled at Gladiolus and stuck out his hands.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Gladiolus. My name is Ignis Scientia.” 

Ignis wasn’t quite sure if he needed to bow to Gladiolus, who was part of the prestigious Amicitia line but a child like himself. Gladiolus barely moved, eyes darting to Ignis’s hands before zooming back to his face, a hint of confusion plastered on his eyes. Ignis continued to smile, holding out his hand. 

After his father pointedly stared at him, Gladiolus finally took Ignis’s hands in a firm handshake. He shook them in a rough jerky manner like he was unused to the action. His palms were rough and when he pulled away, Ignis noticed light scratches along the lines of his palm. Possibly from training, if the sword by his side was any indication. He quickly returned to his strict position and eyed Ignis with a hint of curiosity. 

Ignis appreciated that Gladiolus lost his indifferent stare.

“The-the name’s Gladiolus. Just call me Gladio, that's what everyone calls me.”  
He smiled lightly then, amber eyes crinkling as he stood a tad straighter.

Gladio continued to stare at Ignis the entire time he was by his side. Ignis felt the little pinpricks in the back of his head as he conversed with the king, fear slowly stepping away the more the King spoke. It was easy to pick out the man’s devotion for his son. In a way, it reminded Ignis of his own father. He certainly welcomed Ignis with the warmth of one. It made the situation a little more bearable, infinitely less stressful.

Later, when the adults branched off to talk in their own circles, Ignis turned to face Gladio and cocked his head when the older jumped, wooden sword clanking against his leg. The stare he felt did not seem hostile, only intrigued. Despite that, Ignis did not appreciate being openly gawked at.

“What's wrong?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. 

Gladio averted his eyes and scratched his head. 

“Ah, well, its nothing’. Um, your well..” he stammered. HIs face glowed a faint pink.

Ignis grew concerned. Was Gladio sick? He seemed fine before but sickness often came and went. If he was sick, then he needed to rest before it could get worse. That same familiar nursing feeling blossomed in his heart. Before Ignis could say anything or offer a piece of advice, Gladio suddenly blurted out “Your glasses look cute” and clamped his mouth shut like he himself was surprised at what he said. 

“Oh..thank you” Ignis said, a touch perplexed.

Gladio flushed even deeper and avoided Ignis’s eyes. He remained oddly silent for the rest of the time Ignis was by his side.

The meeting soon adjourned and Ignis once again found himself under the guidance of his uncle. He bowed to the king and waved goodbye to Prince Noctis who jumped in place like an excited bunny. When he waved at Gladio, the elder turned away with a twist of his neck. Once his father glared at him , however, he instantly withered and bashfully waved back at Ignis, looking every bit the part of a kicked puppy. 

How strange, Ignis thought to himself as his uncle directed him out the door, guards at their side. How strange indeed.


	2. Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, this ran totally out of hand, I never expected to write so much in one chapter. Here's the second chapter of New Territories! Thanks for all your wonderful support.

Life at the Citadel continued just as Ignis expected. His schedule was crammed everyday with things he had to do, things he had to learn. On the best of days, he barely had enough time to dress and eat a quick meal before a servant came and rushed him to his private lessons.

As Ignis trailed from class to class, he often spotted Gladio training alone in the Citadel’s prestigious training hall. A little glimpse here and there - the doors were always open to ventilate the area. It helped that Gladio typically trained in the center of the room so Ignis always caught a glance of him when he passed by.

Ignis admired Gladio. He really did. Gladio was someone worthy of being Prince Noctis’s shield. He took his duty seriously, always training, always pushing for more. Muscles were already developing on his arms and his form was no longer dwarfed by his outfit.

Gladio took his studies seriously too, if the textbooks in his arms and frustrated muttering during his breaks were any indication. Ignis, who was often ridiculed by his schoolmates for studying so much in his free time, appreciated Gladio’s awareness of the importance of education.

His respect for Gladio continued to grow as days elapsed into weeks. Yet, their distance remained unbreachable. Both children were swamped to their neck with work, Ignis with his lessons and Gladio with his training. There was simply no time for play.

Ignis finally resigned himself to the fact that their interactions would have to wait until adulthood, when both needed to be at Noctis’s side to support him as the new Lucian King.

Fate seemed to have other plans, however.  
~ ~ ~  
Age 10:

“Noct!! Noct, where are you?”

Ignis darted across the halls of the Citadel, practically hollering as he called his prince’s name.  
Every sharp turn he made near whipped his glasses off his face. His hair was matted with sweat and thick perspiration. His muscles burned in agony and an incredible scratching pain made itself prevalent in his throat. Yet, nothing could alarm him more than the worry panging his heart, near sweltering in its intensity and storm.

This could not be happening. It was only a few weeks into his duty as Noctis's advisor and he’d already lost the prince.

Ignis had only looked away for a few moments to fix the toddler’s wrinkled bedsheets and Noct was gone like the wind. Ignis’s heart thumped as images of Noct getting hurt crossed his mind, pitch after pitch and each more troubling than the last. He could be lost and crying alone in a dark room. Maybe he tripped and tumbled down the stairs. What if someone kidnapped him??

Before he knew it, Ignis was racing on the route taking him straight to the training hall. It was the last major room he needed to check before revisiting the countless bedrooms lining the Citadel. All the rooms were identical so he’d only done a cursory search for each before he moved on. Cursory wasn’t enough.

Before he reached his destination, Gladio exited the training hall, pressing a white towel to his temple. As soon as he heard Ignis’s frantic footsteps, he served on his heel and drew his sword into a defensive position, eyes narrowed and lips drawn into a harsh frown. When he saw it was Ignis rushing at him, his mouth unlatched. He fumbled with his sword , looking more bewildered the closer Ignis got.

His expression would’ve been humorous if Ignis wasn't in such an agitated mood.

“It’s YOU!” Gladio pointed his finger at Ignis, tone accusing. He took a step back, white towel dropping to the floor.

“I’ve lost Prince Noctis.” Ignis bursted out as soon as he reached Gladio, out of breath and ready to collapse. He rested his hands on his quivering thighs and panted. He’d never run this much in his life.

Gladio blinked once, twice, then burst out laughing. Ignis stared at him, baffled, sure that he was about to receive a disapproving glare instead.

“Did his highness get lost again? He used to escape his servants all the time. Let’s find him before King Regis freaks out like last time.”

Gladio quickly sheathed his sword and closed the training doors behind him. Ignis used this moment as quick breather, swiping the sweat off his forehead before Gladio motioned both of them to move. Without a word, the two children dashed off in search of their future king.

Surrounded by their bond duty to the prince, the duo - thanks to Gladio’s accrued knowledge of the prince’s past escapes- quickly located Noctis grappling on the shelves of a large, ancient bookshelf in a bedroom.

Ignis felt his heart stop beating for approximately five seconds.

Gladio whistled, raising his hand to shield his eyes.  
“He’s pretty high up there, isnt he.”

Ignis couldn't speak, paralyzed in fear. Noctis was almost 10 feet above the ground, sitting on the edge of a shelf that could very well collapse underneath his weight. The prince himself barely acknowledged the two pre-teens beneath him and continued chewing on his cheese-stick. Ignis didn’t have the slightest idea how Noctis even managed to climb that high and did not want to find out.

Gladio tapped Ignis's shoulder, catching his attention.

Ignis looked over at his partner.

“Why don’t I just shake the bookshelf,” Gladio suggested, making a vague movement like he was strangling someone, “and then catch him when he falls. Promise I won’t miss.”

The mere image of Noctis crashing to his doom raised Ignis’s blood pressure. Nerves agitated and worried beyond belief, Ignis failed to reign in the outburst that suddenly shot out of him.

“That’s hardly appropriate Gladio!” Ignis snapped, heart pounding.

Gladio stepped back in alarm, hands still choking an invisible person that was getting the throttle of his life. He blinked, took one long look at Ignis.

“Hey calm down, he’ll be fine,” Gladio motioned gently with his hand. “Worry’s gonna get you nowhere, take a deep breath. ”

Following Gladio's advice, Ignis took a second to breathe, feeling slightly better as fresh air filled his lungs. His hands stopped trembling, nerves reduced to little sparks. With newly heightened sense, Ignis began to formulate a plan.

Eventually, they managed to get Prince Noctis down on their own. Ignis stood watch, arms outstretched in cause Noctis fell while Gladio went to borrow a chair from one of the Citadel’s many bedrooms.

Gladio, being the taller of the two, climbed the stool to retrieve Noctis while Ignis flitted around the stool like a mother duck, doing his best to steady the stool. Every time Gladio’s movements violently rocked the stool, Ignis’s fingers turned white with the force at which he gripped the edges of the furniture.

It was when everything was over, and with Noctis safe in his arms that Ignis realized how barbaric and undignified he acted, letting his emotions overcome his rationality. He’d ran around the Citadel like a chicken with its head cut off and shouted at Gladio despite his valuable assistance.

His face flushed in embarrassment as he faced Gladio who was clapping his hands to get rid of the dust caked on his palms. Ignis was about to point out the dirt smudges on his face and shirt but refrained himself at the last second. This wasn’t a time for lectures.

“I apola-apologize for my outburst. My first few weeks adjusting has been a bit stressful as of late. I'm afraid I lost my nerves, ” Ignis nervously stammered.

Ignis supported Noct with his left arm and brushed his glasses back with his fingers, shyly avoiding Gladio’s gaze. Noct interrupted the moment by smacking his hands on Ignis’s shirt, leaving a coat of dirt that sent a shiver of disgust down his back.

“Hey, no biggie” Gladio replied. “It was a pretty good workout anyways. Lifting Noct was like lifting one of my dumbbells. ” He flexed his arms in demonstration, the one completely covered in dust.

“Still, you have my gratitude, Gladio.”

With Noctis in his arms, Ignis allowed himself a small smile. He really was grateful for Gladio’s help and guidance.

“Urugh!”

Ignis raised an eyebrow at the strange noise that gurgled out of Gladio’s throat. It was an odd mix between a hiccup, a groan, and something entirely nonhuman. Gladio’s face flushed an odd shade of pink and Ignis suddenly recalled their first encounter in front of King Regis. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong. Once again, Gladio interrupted him before he could utter his first syllable.

“I’m gonna go back to my training, see you!”

And with that, Gladio was out the door, not a hair in sight.

Ignis blinked at Gladio’s hasty retreat and tilted his head, confused. He really did not understand Gladio. At the very least, this experience taught Ignis that Gladio was a good person and was someone he could trust in stressful situations. With a sigh, he smiled again and adjusted Noct in his arms so the prince was looking directly at his advisor.

“Now your highness, let’s get back to your room before you make another spectacle out of me.”  
He swiped a smudge off Noctis’s cheeks with his thumb.

Noctis laughed and proceeded to rub his dusty palms on Ignis’s face.

~ ~ ~  
During the eve of his second month at the Citadel, Ignis learned about the distinctions between omegas, betas, and alphas. He finished his Lucian history courses much faster than his tutor had expected. To fill up the empty space between his lessons, his teacher suggested they start his mandatory health course to help him better understand his position as Noctis’s advisor.

“You.” his private tutor said, “ will most likely mature into an omega. You’ve always been nurturing and caring no? Those are the primary traits of an omega. There’s a certain stigma attached with being an omega, but I know you can work your way around it. I know I certainly did.”

His teacher smiled at Ignis’s look of awe and redirected his attention back to the diagrams.

“Now, let’s move on to the biological differences, Ignis. Follow along. You can ask all the questions you want at the end of the lecture.”

Ignis embraced his position as an omega, openly accepted it as a part of his identity. He was glad, not vexed, at the knowledge that his second sex was a part of the reason why he was chosen as Noctis’s advisor. In fact, he was grateful for his secondary sex, thankful for the opportunity that it provided and was forever content with his position. After all, without it, his uncle would've never considered admitting him in the test to find Noct's advisor. And Ignis would never be able to visit the Citadel. To him, being an omega was a gift.

~ ~ ~  
Age 12  
~ ~ ~  
The next time he met Gladio, Ignis was decked out in the most fashionable attire in the kingdom, hand enclosed in large, mismatched oven mitts with a pink, unicorn patterned apron draped over his front.

Gladio paused at the entrance of the kitchen and raised his hand in greeting.

His eyes served down to the sparkly horned creature on Ignis's front. He didn’t make a comment. A wise choice. Ignis raised an eyebrow in question, not entirely sure why Gladio was in his domain.

“..Hey.” Gladio greeted Ignis.

“Hello, Gladio.” Ignis answered back.

The silence between them hung heavily. While they had gotten closer in the months they spent together, their meetings were often lacking and rushed. Both children had important obligations to fulfill and, once again, not nearly enough free time. Their last meeting had ended on a rather peculiar note as well, and both children weren't quite sure how to act around the other.

Gladio shifted his weight from one foot to the other and ran his fingers through his hair. Ignis waited for him to open his mouth.

The platter Ignis was holding was steaming his hands through his oven mitts. Ignis quickly placed the platter onto the kitchen counter. He didn’t want to drop this batch like he did the first. He had profusely apologized to the head chef for the mess and cleaned everything by himself despite the kitchen staff offering to help.

With a grunt of effort, Ignis stepped onto his stool so his chest with level with the counter and returned his oven mitts to the drawer at his right.

If Gladio had something to say, then he could start the conversation. If not, he could continue to stare. Ignis was working right now and didn’t particularly care what Gladio did. It was a bit rude of him, but the heat of the kitchen was sweltering on his skin and Ignis himself didn’t know what to say without Prince Noctis acting as a buffer.

Gladio watched him, head tilted as he eyed Ignis like a hawk.

“I didn’t know you knew how to bake,” He inquired.

“Noctis mentioned a treat he enjoyed on the streets of Tenebrae the other day. I’ve always been interested in cooking. His words were the final push that encouraged me to start.”

Ignis unloaded the treats as he spoke, transferring the hot desserts one by one onto a metal party plate. The sweet aroma itched his nose. He liked baking; it was relaxing and fulfilling. He wasn’t too much of a sweet tooth though, and he often found himself overwhelmed by the too-sweet- smell of pastries. Or maybe he was the one at fault, Noctis had a voracious sweet tooth and Ignis always found himself adding more than the necessary amount of sweeteners.

Gladio shifted his stance and leaned against the doorway of the kitchen. “Huh, that’s pretty cool.”

“I don’t have a sweet tooth so the taste melts together at points,” Ignis admitted. “ I can only hope I emulated the treat correctly this time.”

“Uh, well, I could test test for you?”

Ignis blinked. Gladio looked flustered and gesticulated with his arms. “Well, I mean, I like sweets and I eat a lot with my younger sister when we’re playing. I’m like a professional taste-tester! We Amicitias eat a lot and pride ourselves on our tasting ability, you know. I may be only 13 but I’ve eaten a lot of -”

Before Gladio could ramble on any further, Ignis wrapped one of his pastries in a napkin and held it over the counter, motioning Gladio over.

Gladio hesitated a step, looking at the little ridge between the kitchen and the hallway like he was stepping into forbidden territory. He glanced up at Ignis, head tilted in an obvious request for permission. When Ignis nodded, Gladio finally stepped into the kitchen and wandered to where Ignis stood, treat still held in his outstretched arm.

Although Ignis put on a facade of disinterest, on the inside, he was giddy with excitement, anticipating Gladio’s critique and review.

He watched Gladio take a giant bite, before chewing and adopting a contemplative expression. The rest of the pastry quickly disappeared into Gladio’s mouth, a tongue even darted out to lick the corners of his mouth. Gladio almost inhaled his napkin in his hurry to stuff everything into his mouth.

Somewhere warm fluttered within Ignis as he watched Gladio openly enjoy his food. It was most definitely the omega in him speaking but seeing the pure joy and pleasure openly displayed on Gladio’s face made him feel satisfied beyond belief. It was one thing for the Citadel’s professional cooks to praise him, it was another to see the effects of his cooking painted across another child’s face like an open canvas. Ignis resisted the urge to stuff more pastries into Gladio’s hands and preen.

“Wow! This is really good!” Gladio exclaimed, licking the crumbs off his fingers, “Is this your first time?”

“No,” Ignis sighed, snapping out of his thoughts and bringing a pastry to his lips,” this is actually my 15th batch. Noctis rejected the other 14 tries.” He calmly nibbled it as Gladio gasped.

Gladio’s eyes widened. “But it’s so good?!?” He scrunched up his nose and a mischievous smile lit up his face, “ Don’t worry about Noct, he just enjoys the taste of his own fingers too much.”

Ignis could not help the tiny snort that escaped his throat. He quickly covered his mouth in embarrassment but Gladio, if he heard the noise -he definitely did-, made no comment. He seemed more gleeful though, bashful smile reappearing on his face as he brought up his free hand to rub the back of his neck.

Ignis quickly composed himself and coughed into his fist, a smile on his face.

“I’ll be sure to tell Prince Noctis your thoughts”

Gladio opened his mouth again, in protest. Before he could retort, a thunderous voice boomed from outside the kitchen.

“GLADIO! Where are YOU? !!!”

Ignis watched the color drain from Gladio’s face as soon as he heard the thundering voice. Even his gelled hair wilted like it was dying. Gladio took a quick glance over his shoulder, face pale and posture crumbled.

Ignis quickly waved him off with a “shoo shoo” movement, not wanting Gladio to get into any more trouble than he already was in.

“It seems your assistance is needed elsewhere. Don’t mind me, Gladio. Thank you for your company.”

“I, uh, I’ll see you later then!” Gladio’s straightened the sword at his side. With a wave, he served on his heels and quickly made for the kitchen door. His voice disappeared around the corner ,followed by a sharp “Gya! I'm coming! I’m coming”.

His footsteps disappeared into the distance.

A little seed of disappointed bloomed in Ignis heart. Ignis didn’t understand why he was so disheartened at Gladio’s leave. He was doing fine on his own before, enjoying his solitude even. Still, everything seemed a little more silent, a little more cold now that the older child was gone. The whistles and whirling of the fan, previously pleasant background noise, faded into non-existence as Ignis stared at his pastries.

All of a sudden, a barrage of footsteps sounded outside the kitchen. Ignis’s head snapped up in surprise, and he immediately zeroed in on the entrance of the kitchen.

Gladio’s head popped back around the corner. “You’re really good at cooking, Ignis. Thanks for the food!” He flashed Ignis a thumbs up and winked.

And with that, Gladio was gone again, footsteps quickly fading into the distance.

Ignis stood there, watching the spot where Gladio was last.

The cold feeling in his heart disappeared. The room brightened up again. A flurry of chuckles bubbled up his throat. Gladio was really quite a character. Ignis continued smiling as he bagged his treats, preparing them for Noctis’s judgement.

Ignis said nothing the next time Gladio visited, or the next, or the next.  
~ ~ ~

Age 14  
~ ~ ~  
Ignis sighed as he exited his last class of the day, brain pounding with the promise of an oncoming headache. The three house of sleep he got last night was perhaps a little too much for him to take. His cup of Ebony was completely drained by his second lecture, and all he wanted to do was go home and sleep for eternity. He wouldn’t of course. There was too much work to be done, too much papers to sort and projects to do, not to mention helping Noctis with his own elementary homework.

A loud laugh jolted Ignis out of his thoughts. He turned to his side to inspect the noise. To his surprise, he found Gladio sitting in one of the outdoor benches, a gaggle of schoolmates circulating around him, all laughing and joking and pushing each other around like children.

Gladio certainly looked cozy in his little circle, all smiles and deep, gut busting laughter. Ignis should have guessed Gladio would be the popular type. Why wouldn't he? He was welcoming and friendly, lovingly blunt but so honest to the fault that no one could hate him for it. It helped that he was large and handsome. People tend to flock toward those with his physique.

As Ignis watched, the group around Gladio dissipated and eventually disappeared. Gladio waved to the last of them, a petite girl in a cotton swab shirt, and returned to his book, arms spread across the top of his bench as the loud cheer of the crowd slowly faded into the background.

The setting sun blanketed Gladio in an air of warm orange and warmth. He looked so unwinded, a small serene smile on his face as he flipped a page in his novel. He looked like a prince out of a fairy tale, so at ease with himself and the world around him. So calm.

Ignis almost felt bad disturbing such a comfy image.

“Hello.”

Ignis hid his smile when Gladio grunted in surprise and nearly tumbled off his seat.

He managed to catch himself at the last moment, neck twisting to look Ignis in the eye. A slew of emotions flitted across them: surprise, recognition, delight, and a little something Ignis couldn't decipher.

Ignis busied himself with reading the title of Gladio’s book instead.

“Pride and Prejudice...That is a very difficult book” Ignis commented, impressed.

Gladio didn't say anything. He kept his gaze on Ignis in a contemplative stare.

Eventually, the teasing feeling in Ignis's gut morphed into one of anxiety.

All of a sudden, Ignis regretted intruding on Gladio’s time. Gladio didn't have any obligation to talk to him outside the Citadel. Ignis had no right to disturb his private time with his own meaningless banter. Sure, Gladio approached him plenty times before but that was within the enclosures of the Citadel. Gladio was probably just looking for a quick chat to pass his time and nothing more.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have disturbed you, I shall-- I’ll take my leave,” Ignis pushed up his spectacles and made to leave, biting his lips.

“NO!” Gladio suddenly grabbed his wrists.

Ignis repressed his instinct to jump at the sharp nose and turned his neck, giving Gladio an inquisitive look.

Gladio slapped a hand over his eyes and sighed.  
“ You’re not bothering me or anything,Ignis. I just thought you’d laugh at me. Stay with me.”

“You would think so lowly of me?” Ignis joked. What was there to laugh at? Gladio was clearly enjoying himself and wasn’t causing any harm to the people around him. If anything, he should be proud of his ability to read at such a high level.

 

“ Nah, It’s kinda embarrassing y’know. I’m a big macho alpha reading some sappy love story” Gladio scratched his head. His rare bout of insecurity was endearing to Ignis. The sight flush of his cheeks accented his lovely cheekbones. Ignis felt that familiar flutter in his heart, which he know recognized as his need to nurture and care for another.

Ignis harshly scolded himself in his own mind for thinking so crudely while Gladio was obviously embarrassed.

“I don’t think you should be ashamed of liking what you like, Gladio. I ,for one, don’t think of you any less”. Ignis laid his hand on Gladio’s naked shoulder and gently squeezed.

Despite his encouraging words, Ignis couldn’t help but wonder why Gladio reacted in such a mortified fashion when Ignis read the title of his book. He was clearly fine with people knowing his romantic interests, if the group around him earlier was any indication. Ignis even saw a female student reading the book over Gladio’s shoulder, her elbow resting on as armrest as she laughed with him.

Perhaps...Ignis wasn’t as close to Gladio as he thought he was.

Something cold wedged itself in his heart. It was a familiar feeling, one from childhood that he didn’t enjoy remembering. Memories of lonely days and nights flashed before his eyes, memories of Ignis walking alone to his parent’s house, only accompanied by a book under his arm. Ignis grit his teeth in frustration.

Before he could trip himself into another pit of self-pity, Gladio’s voice broke through his storm like a ray of sunshine on a rainy day.

“...Thanks, Ignis” Gladio smiled. He arched his neck and looked Ignis straight in the eye. “Your words mean a lot.”

Gladio’s amber eyes, so focused and compassionate, shocked Ignis. He never noticed how beautiful Gladio’s eyes truly were. They were piercing pool of amber, so deep and rich that they struck Ignis to his very core. A lump made itself apparent in Ignis throat. There was nothing but open-hearted affection and amiability in his eye. His response was so honest, so sincere that Ignis’s self-doubt fled to the hills without a moment’s hesitation.

“Speaking of books, you read a lot too, right?” Gladio questioned, finger pointing at him, “ Let’s talk about our favorites, bet I know more authors than you expect me to. Loser has to make the winner a batch of cookies.”

A mischievous twinkle appeared in the corner of Gladio’s eye.

Ignis smiled and sat next to Gladio, dropping his book bag to the side of the bench. His migraine melted away in Gladio’s proximity. Everything was so warm and delightful. Gladio’s hand was still wrapped around his wrist. It was cozy and comforting, like an embrace that warmed his entire body. Gladio didn’t seem to notice his hand was still on Ignis’s skin. Ignis saw no reason to remind him.

“ I don’t doubt it at all.”

~ ~ ~  
And so, Ignis’s relationship with Gladio continued to develop.

~ ~ ~  
Before he knew it, Ignis was 16 and attending council meetings in Noctis’s stead. Most were boring and stifling in nature and often droned on for hours with no clear resolution. It was impossible for Ignis to leave the meetings without a massive migraine nowadays, often infuriated by the olden ways of the officials and their tendency to adhere to old customs without caring for modern implications, ideas, and solutions.

However, today’s council meeting meant a lot to Ignis.

Today, the kings of all territories within Eos had arrived in order to discuss international Omega regulations and enactments. Hardly an uncommon occurrence, but one important to Ignis, who was proud of his identity and wanted to defend people of his kind with his own power.

Some of the council’s sons had come to watch. The majority of them stood bored by their respective father’s side, watching the elders argue about omegas and whore rings and all other kinds of encroaches on human rights. Ignis sat at the furthest right of the table, pen in his hand and notebook at the ready.

Ignis himself tried to pay attention. These deep-rooted problems were personal to him, to his status. It was a complete embarrassment for such old traditional customs to still exist in Eos. So, he came prepared. Notes cluttered his notebook to the very last page. He had a rebuttal for every argument, a scribe of every meeting, law, event, and instance of omegan abuse.

Yet, to his horror, half-way through the meeting, Ignis found himself drifting off as the elders once again battled for control over the tables. The room, which started off warm, steadily began to stifle him. A strange sensation brushed against his stomach. Ignis uncrossed his legs, than crossed them again, then uncrossed. His mind hazed, handwriting converting into messy scrawls on his page that resembled chicken scratch. How strange...Ignis even let himself rest an hour prior to prepare himself for the meeting, in honor of this meeting. He tugged at his collar shirt, perspiration sliding down his collarbones. Perhaps, he shouldn’t have drank so much Ebony before coming to the meeting.

His majesty’s voice jousted him from his ponderings.

“Ignis? You don’t seem to be in the best state of mind. I suggest you leave before your situation escalates. ”

Ignis flushed in humiliation. He berated himself for not concentrating at the meeting at hand, and pushed all his discomforts to the back of his mind as he addressed the king.

“I am fine, your majesty. I apologize for any concern I may have caused. I-”

King Regis interrupted him, holding up one hand to silence him.

“I believe you are misunderstanding me ,Ignis. I am asking you to take your leave.’

What? Ignis raised his neck, ready to protest and defend his place in the meeting. There was no need to dismiss him for one blunder. King Regis must know how important this meeting was to his personal belief, having selected him years prior based on his sex. It was unbecoming to argue against the king but..

All of a sudden, Ignis noticed the unnatural stillness in the room, the silence and the tense air. No one was whispering on the sidelines, nor was anyone glaring at each other as formalities clashed with image and tradition.

Nearly every member in the council had a sleeve up to their nose, eyes wide and honed on his every movement. Even the council sons ceased in their figiting, eyes on him with the alertness of a hawk’s.

Why were they looking at him. Why were they looking at him?

All of a sudden, Ignis noticed the shortness in his breath and the unnatural heat circulating through his body. His fingers were twitching something fierce. His stomach, which only tingled slightly before, stung as soon as Ignis realized he was the center of everyone’s attention. When Ignis gasped for air, a distinctly saccharine scent traveled up his nose. The scent of sickeningly overripe peaches and vanilla.

Oh...he was going into heat.

Ignis immediately stood, humiliation searing its iron hot brand into his skin and stiffening his movement. Shame colored his cheeks. At the sudden rush of emotions coursing through his body, his scent deepened, smelling so sweet that Ignis almost retched in disgust. He held down the impulse through sheer will and composure.

One councilman near him gasped and shuddered as his scent washed over him. His neighbor leaned away in disgust.

Ignis’s grip on the table tightened.

“I apologize for the disturbance. Please excuse me,” Ignis whispered.

The councilmen all watched him collect his belongings. Ignis could barely look at King Regis. He knew without a doubt that the King was furious at him, disgusted ,maybe, with his behavior. And who could blame him? It was Ignis that made such a mess of this important meeting. It was Ignis who made a fool of the king’s council.

Eyes burning, Ignis made way for the exit, posture straight and white knuckled around his notebooks.

“Ignis, take one of my men with you to keep safe,” Regis spoke, voice tender.

Ignis froze at the exit of the door.

Humiliation burned him red as he turned and bowed to the king. Everyone’s eyes were on him again, judging him, marking him out as the one omega in the room, the one foolish and careless enough to work himself up into a heat. Their heavy stares forced Ignis’s gut into a knot. He was going to throw up.

“I thank you for your kindness, your highness. However, I believe you’ll find that unnecessary. The hallways are empty and I dare not risk you all by excavating guards for my own need. I’ll rest in my own quarters and leave you all be. Once again, I apologize for my disruption.” Ignis kept his face lowered, voice betraying no emotion.

If King Regis heard the crack in the voice, he did not address it.

Ignis grimaced and bit through the skin of his lips, eyes burning as he finally exited the room. No one made any move to stop him.

~ ~ ~

Ignis stumbled around the corner of the hallway, heat clouding his mind into a muddling mess. Ignis felt his cheek with the back of his hand and flinched at how warm he felt, how tender and sensitive his skin became. His clothes were too tight, too sticky even though he personally altered and mended all his clothes so they perfectly enclosed his figure, not too tight and not too loose.

Nothing could even come close to the mortification and shame that overcame his being as Ignis stumbled around another corner. He was furious at himself, at his inability to control his body and his inherent weakness. He didn't even know if he could look his majesty in the eyes after disappointing him so much. For the first time in his life, Ignis’s hatred boiled over in hate of his secondary sex.

A group of well dressed men suddenly danced at the edge of his peripheral.

The council sons from the meeting.

Ignis's gut thrummed in anticipation of something unpleasant. The hairs on his body erected, goosebumps popping on his skin. Something was off. Ignis was too mannered to cull his upbringing however, and he turned to address the group of men standing behind him. He made sure to stand tall, raising his head and setting back his shoulders. They saw saw stumble before when they were trailing him like a pack of wolves. Ignis would not let it happen again.

“Is there anything I can help you with, gentlemen?” He ignored his body’s weakness. He tried to control the trembling in his knees.

“Yeah, there’s definitely something you can help us with, omega” the head of the group spat at him. Ignis recognized him as Tarquin, the eldest alpha prince of the Lucrece kingdom. He took one step closer. His group of cackling henchmen followed him, like one synchronized mass of testosterone and teenage hysteria.

Ignis immediately stiffened. Alarms blared in his head, urging him to run, escape, get away from here. Ignis clenched his fists and reigned in his terror. His feet remained planted, head held high and gaze expedient. Running would only spur the group on. They were too far from civilization to call for assistance. If he ran and the heat became too much, so much that it overpowered him and forced him on his knees…

It was safer to talk them down then leave with his tail tucked between his legs.

“I’m afraid I’m preoccupied at the moment. If I could redirect you to the servants' room a few distances back, I’m sure they can provide you the assistance you gentlemen desperately need.” His eyes glowed in warning. A tremor ran up his leg and his step faltered.

“Aw c’mon little kitty, don't be so cold!” a voice cooed from the back of the group.

An immediate bark of laughter followed the man’s comment and pretty soon, the whole group dissolved into a mass of cackling hyenas.

Ignis didn’t flinch. He took one step back, shoulders bunched as he stared down the men in front of him. They would not overpower him.

But, this was too risky. The slightest thrum of fear shot down his back. His fingers trembled once more. The heat was getting worse; it was getting too difficult trying to keep his mind clear. He needed to make his escape before it was too late.

“I’ll take my leave now. Please do enjoy the rest of your stay at the Citadel”. Ignis curtly ended the conversation, quickly bowed, and made to leave.

Before Ignis could back away, Tarquin suddenly sprung, yanking Ignis back into the group. The slightest touch on his wrist was like a sudden splash of cold water. Ignis instantly began thrashing, throwing out his limbs and yelling as the whole gang descended upon him. His eyes stung from the cold sweat that dripped into his eyes. His heart’s booming thrum drowned out the noise around him. Ignis had never been more terrified in his entire life.

Someone shoved a gag into his mouth, forcing his jaws so wide they burned with exertion. Two hands wrestled his arms behind his back, pushing so hard that tears sprung into his eyes. Ignis lifted one leg but before he could take aim, someone knocked into his knees from behind, sending him careening to the floor. The carpet rubbed his cheek raw.

“C’mon boys let’s bring him to one of their fancy little bedrooms.”

Ignis felt hands dragging his body across the floor. He struggled, wiggling his entire body to escape the hands encircling his limbs. His efforts only rewarded him with more burns across his skin, the carpet beneath him rough and unforgiving. He tried to scream around the gag in his mouth, tried his darn hardest to slow his impending doom. Nothing worked.

His assailants dragged him into a dark room a few yards back. Ignis could only watch as his one escape was forcefully slammed closed by a blurry figure. The room was immediately swamped in darkness. The afternoon light filtered into the room, darkened by the rich curtains that hid everything within from peering eyes.

“Hold him down.”

“Can’t believe the king actually let an Omega come to our meeting, what a disgrace.”

“Shows how weak they are, can’t even protect themselves.”

“My omega back home ain’t this bitchy.”

“Look at him, all high and mighty.”

“Thinks he's better than us alphas doesn't he.”

“What’s all this bullcrap about omegan rights anyways. They're always asking for more and more. Don't understand how lucky they already are.”

Cold sweat. His breath quickened, pupils dilated. He continued to kick and scratch. The hands around his face jerked off and Ignis struggled to take a breath of air through his nose. His fear was so strong he scented himself on his tongue, a bitter, burning stench that embedded itself into his skin. Worst of all, he could smell the arousal in the air, something so foreign to him that he choked in shock at the pervasive, intriguing scent. How could he recognize this scent that he’d never smelled before?

They suddenly backed off, forming a circle around him as Ignis rolled to his stomach and tried to heave himself onto his feet. His fear wounded him, twisted around him and kept him down. Someone still had his hands twisted into his hair -he presumed it was Tarquin- and was courched in front of Ignis’s bowed head like he was an animal. Ignis didn’t know why they were gone. The sudden cold air chilled him to his core.

“Man he stinks, the fuck happened? He was smelling pretty good before. Did he shit himself?”

The man in front of him chuckled. The fingers tightened in his hair. He was right, it was Tarquin.

“You don’t know how to take care of your omegas do you, here I’ll show you.”

The sharp pain in his neck ebbed as Tarquin’s fingers untangled from his hair. Ignis tried to jerk his head away but was too slow. A hand closed around the back of his neck, pinched the scruff of his skin, and tugged.

All the muscles in Ignis’s body stiffened and slackened at the same time. Ignis froze mid-thrash, throat enclosed around a yowl that spluttered out in a dying gasp, fingers uselessly curling into gnarled roots. A prickling warm sensation pooled and creeped up from his toes, leaving his body a limp, shuddering mass.

His heart’s scattato accompanied the rush of blood that coursed through his body. Everything else faded into nothing. He felt no terror, no pain. Instead, a prickly, almost pleasant tingly sensation tickled his skin.

All of a sudden, there were fingers touching him, probing him. Through the cloud of his trance-like state, he felt them sliding over his muscles and calves and sides. It was like being touched on frozen skin. His skin didn’t feel like they belonged to him; only his epidermis reacted to being touched ,grabbed ,and stroked. Fingers ghosted over his skin, tracing tingling lines on his chest, the small of his back, the biceps of his arm. He was so sensitive, so malleable. The wetness inside him suddenly broke and pooled, soaking through his slacks. It was warm, sticky, disgusting. Ignis didn’t have the capacity to feel embarrassed about his soiled pants. He was more disgusted at himself, focusing his all on blocking a moan from trailing up his throat. It didn't work.

Someone moaned above him. Something hard pressed into his wet fabric of his rear. Ignis moaned again, eyes fluttering close against his will.

They were close, too close. Ignis sensed, not saw, the masses pressing into his body from all sides, faceless, emotionless masses that molested his body and insulted him like an animal.

“Nice and quiet now” a lecherous voice hissed into his right ear.

“Good little kitty,” another assaulted the sensitive cartilage of his left ear.

Ignis shivered. His resolve was weakening, strength pouring away with every push of his hands in the haze of his mind. The hand around his neck squeezed even harder and Ignis jerked. Then, he melted into a more submissive mass.

Someone unbuckled the gag from around his mouth. Ignis tried to take a breath, jaw sour with the ache of holding itself so wide.

A thin appendage slid into his mouth, tracing his tongue, the root of his mouth. Another entered his mouth and gripped his tongue between two fingers. A thumb smoothed over the surface of his muscle, milking it with slow, deliberate movements. Everything was slick and slippery. His breaths came out in short pants as he breathed in from his nose. It tasted salty. He couldn't swallow. The saliva pooling in his mouth dribbled over his mouth and down his chin. He relinquished control of his mouth.

Ignis couldn’t do anything to stop it.

A slightest tinge of disgust manifested in the back of Ignis’s mind.

The spike of arousal in the air spiked as Ignis keened. The smell of foreign men, of alphas, invaded his nose. Their presence forced themselves upon him, draping across his frame, forcing him to submit. Ignis no longer had control of his own body, not in the way he wanted.

The fingers in his mouth slipped out, dragging his tongue as far it let go. They wiped his saliva on his own cheek.

Someone was trying to take off his pants.

A strip of harsh light suddenly flashed across the room .

Ignis eyes snapped open.

The hand clutching his neck loosened. Ignis gasped as sensation rammed its way back into his body, all his disgust, fear, hatred, and anger nearly barreling him over as he shocked himself back into consciousness. Without warning, his throat convulsed and he retched up his breakfast, his saliva, and sweat. Some of the splatter landed on his shirt. The hands leapt off his skin like he was fire itself.

“Hey! What are you kids doing?!?”

There, his chance.

Ignis shot up, pushing his way out of the crowd using every last drop of strength in his body. He pushed the figure at the doorway out of his way and ran like a madman toward the direction of his room. There was no rational thought of decision. All he knew to do was run.

~ ~ ~

Ignis slammed his door close and collapsed into a heap of limbs and sweat as soon as he heard the click of his lock sliding into place. He panted harshly, legs trembling and locking into place. Adrenaline kept him sane, on his toes. As it slowly faded away along with the pounding of his heart, Ignis felt his heat come back full force. His head fuzzed with the advent of an upcoming fever. The pain started up in his stomach. He panted and leaned the back of his head against the door.

He was making a mess on the carpet.

How was there so much liquid?

What happened?

The first tear dipped into a single trail down his cheek. The rest followed in a cascade of streams across his entire cheek. A sob ripped its way out his chest.

Sobbing, Ignis hauled himself up, placing two hands on the wall as he slowly pushed forward.

His insides clenched around nothing, convulsing like a knot around his abdomen. Like a fist squeezing out the last bits of an empty tube of mouthwash. Now that it had a taste of an alpha’s scent and pressure, his body would no longer be the same. What was meant to be a mildly uncomfortable first heat roared into one of piercing agony.

Wetness continued to leak out of his body, oozing down his legs, pooling under his feet with every stumbling step. Ignis felt like a child learning to walk.

In a way, Ignis was glad he was too disgusted and sick to feel arousal. His member was hard and pulsating against the fly of his slacks. Yet, he felt no physical pleasure. His only sensation was the dull pound of his own heart struggling to escape his rib cage, like it was trying to bolt from Ignis himself, away from all his problems, and away from his mind.

Ignis just couldn’t stop sobbing.

On his 5th step, Ignis's foot caught on the edge of a cabinet and he crashed to the floor. Groaning, he braced himself and forced his body onto his palms and knees.

The pills...He needed to get the pills.

He painstakingly crawled to his bed and groped for the box he always kept underneath his pillows.  
With trembling fingers, he cracked open the appliance and enclosed his fingers around the orange pill bottle inside. His thumb traced the ridges of the cover, chest heaving with exertion as he tried to stay calm.

He’d read the instructions so many times he’d lost count. He memorized each word on the bottle with astonishing accuracy even through his heat.

~Heat Prevention: In case of an immediate heat with no immediate alpha or partner available to  
help during said heat, take 5 pills, 3 times a day to stifle the effects of the heat. ~

A distant memory played in Ignis’s mind.

_"In case your heat comes early, which I expect it will” his uncle spelled out. “You’re far too young to take on a partner, too young to make a mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life”_

_He closed Ignis’s fingers around the container and smiled. “You’re strong, Ignis, very strong. And I don't want you to blame yourself for feeling weak or needing help. It’s your body. You have control over it and no one else does.”_

Ignis quickly popped open the cap of the bottle and emptied its contents into his open mouth. Immediately, he gagged and almost threw up at the bout of nausea that overcame him. It was good he’d already thrown up everything in his stomach. He slapped his palm over his lips, forcing them closed as his throat convulsed, jumped, and started to rebel against his command.

Finally, he felt the last pill slip out of his throat and into his stomach.

Ignis gasped around another painful convulsion and tried to drag himself atop his bed. The heat was numbing his mind again. Everything was too hot, too sweaty, too intense. Disgusting. Filthy. Worthless, useless. No matter how much he heaved or struggled, his arms refused to cooperate with him. His arms felt stringy, so weak and wobbly. He couldn’t make it up his bed. The pain in his stomach flared up again, making his toes curl.

He’s made himself a fool in front of the foreign officials, embarrassed King Regis for his indebtedness and carelessness. Proved that omegas couldn’t do anything right. Proved that they couldn't even control their bodies. Made the meeting a complete failure.

An unbelievable fit of self loathing twisted its way through his intestines, spiraling its way to his heart and finally, upon the slightest touch of his organ, it imploded on the heart, spreading through his bloodstream until every muscle within his body throbbed with the pain and sadness of the demon’s feeling. A mantra of self blame and shame roared in his head.

He’d allowed himself to be targeted. He’d allowed himself to be defiled.

At the memory, a sharp cry clawed its way out of Ignis’s throat and his sobs escalated in volume.

With an aching heart and face dirtied by snot and tears, the young omega fell into an unrestful slumber by his bed, dreams plagued by his own self hate and mortification. .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this chapter dealt with harsher topics, it was difficult to write. I'm still not satisfied with it, but I think it was the best I could do as of now. I was stuck on this for too long and my story was going nowhere. Maybe i can come back to it in the future. Still, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Ignis just needs a hug and a break, poor darling. :(
> 
> Have a nice Friday, readers.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't find out if ignis' parents had any names so I made some up. If you do manage to find out, please tell me so I can change them.
> 
> My writings a little stiff right now but I'll do my best to fix it in the future. If you find any mistakes or would like to offer any suggestions to better my writing, I would really appreciate it.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Ciao~


End file.
